Poetry

Danny Gurnett: A Question of Existence

MeI have just watched the honey-tinted sun fade
from my sight, it sank like a ship beneath the
ocean horizon in a seascape of resplendent beauty.

Now, I can see the first star reviving itself in the
thriving scene of night. The overwhelming scope of
space and time fuels the engine of my imagination.

Almost everyday, I question our existence.
Are we the descendants of lizards?
Are we the seeds planted by an
ancient race of extraterrestrials?

Perhaps we exist as designs of a multi-
dimensional essence, a higher power
that goes beyond the boundaries of
logical contemplation.

I ponder what will become of us. I observe
the grandeur of our planet and the artistic
creations of nature- it makes me feel at one
with the universe. But I also examine our
society and all of our flaws, the mistakes of
mankind and the crimes we have perpetrated.

My mind is bombarded by
a multitude of chilling topics.
MK Ultra- an illegal experiment,
Operation Paperclip- an exposed secret,
Bohemian Grove- the place that shouldn’t exist,
The Manhattan Project- the birth of atomic
demonstrations.

Our fellow humans have suffered at
the talons of scientific research for
many decades. Government programs
are performed on test subjects for the
purpose of propelling their aspirations
to the skies of success, but at the cost
of conscience and morality.

Most of the time, I focus on the divinity
of life, instead of the horrors that haunt
every orifice of our murky history.
Watching the sun rise and set is never
the same experience, each day is a rebirth
and each night is a mesmerising death.

Right now, I can hear the swashing of the
sea against the evening shore, I can feel the
breeze caressing my face. I carefully close
my eyes, allowing my mind to absorb its
surroundings.

It’s moments like these that remind
me to appreciate the finer details in
life, to enjoy my humble existence
in this intrepid reality.

For many years,
I’ve been asking
why I’m here and
what it all means?

There’s no definitive answer.

The meaning of life
is an infinite story.
The ending hasn’t
been written yet.

~Danny Gurnett, 26, Theatre Technician

Copyright © 2015 Excellence Reporter


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